Harry Potter and the Coliseum of Secrets
by FanFictionFantom
Summary: Why do I do this to myself? The sequel to the Sorcerer's Stoned but you don't really have to read that first. Enjoy, mwahahahahaha. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter One: Blobby

I promised myself a long break from writing fanfiction so I could get in touch with my scholarly self. But I just love you all too much to leave you without a sequel.

Thank you to everyone on my Reviewer Hall of Fame: Jenny, Katya, I'm your 100th reviewer, L. Spencer1153 (I'm so happy u cared enuff to review so much. Here's the new story u wanted), me gusta books, Brick Retarded Weatherman, Black Triforce (u reviewed so much!!), heartdamoose, Always Peach, WritingU.S.A., Caitie, Mz Hellfire, Pink Monkey Pirate, Kalira, Kimberly, CrazyMonkey1213, Unbeknownst, GirlChild1313, A fan, skwiggle, Ludricous, Lady Ana, fUnKy MaGiCk, the vampire slayer, kathryn, Courtney, ScottyBoi, sophiethedevil, Basketball-Football-Chick, Cat, Random Reviewer, Lily the Looter, broken.wings, pookyrox, Lost-Magic, HULIA, MionezTwin01, abbs, and Neko Majin. You are all awesome, and I hope you've been keeping up with the story. Thanks for getting me to 100 reviews!! Now, without further ado, enjoy…

Oh wait. Disclaimer: Silly me. How could I forget the all-important disclaimer. Ahem…I do not own Harry Potter. Only flippin idiot would think that. I also don't own the Flintstones, Rambo, or the molemen (though God knows I've been trying to find them since the dawn of time). Or anything else in here that's famous.

And NOW without any more further ado, I present to you:

**Harry Potter and the Coliseum of Secrets**

Chapter One: Blobby

The scene was dark and silent. Suddenly, bright spotlights lit the street from above. An announcer in a tux leaped out from a bush as loud music that sounded like the Flintstone's theme song erupted from nowhere.

"_Potter, Harry Potter, goes to Hogwarts to learn wiz--ard--ryyyyy, Voldemort, wants to kill him, all because of some dumb pro-phe-cyyyyyyy!_" the announcer sang. Suddenly a bunch of random readers marched up to him, slapped him thoroughly, and hissed, "How many times must we tell you that you people that no one's supposed to know about the prophecy till 5th year?!" before marching away.

Inside one of the houses one the street, a black-haired boy with a pear-shaped scar on his head reclined in melancholy on a luxurious arm-chair. He stared sorrowfully at his flat-screen plasma TV while his zombie-cousin Dudley, who was crouching under Harry's feet to prop them up, vibrated dutifully. His aunt and uncle, when they were not busy eating the brains of various neighbors, fed him grapes and fanned him occasionally.

The boy slammed his fist down out of nowhere and cried angrily, "Why must you treat me so cruelly? How can you fan me so evilly? GOD!" before running out into the street, leaving some confused zombies in his wake. Uncle Vernon blinked, then began chewing his fan.

Harry walked moodily onto the driveway, wondering how he could be so unlucky to be stuck with that horrid zombie family, when suddenly, after putting his foot down, he could not lift it back up. "Oh, even BETTER!" he cried bitterly. "I stepped in GUM!"

"Begging pardon, sir," a throaty high-pitched voice said from somewhere near his hip. He turned to see a strange sort of creature there, sort of like that mucuosy Pokemon thing, except with pointy ears and little stick legs that popped out from under his slimy shell. The goo dribbled off him onto the street, where Harry had put down his foot.

"What in bloody hell are you?!" Harry cried in horror.

The creature sniffed. "I have heard of Harry Potter's insanity, but never of his rudeness. No, never."

"I say, shut up," Harry snapped desperately. He wished he'd never met this disgusting slimebag.

"Ahem," the slime spluttered. "Blobby has a message for Harry Potter." He took out a sheaf of paper. "If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will die," the slime drawled in a bored tone.

"What?! Of course I'm going back to Hogwarts. How else will I be a hero?" Harry puffed out his chest. He didn't even like Hogwarts, but he wouldn't let the slime get his way.

Blobby shrugged and pulled out a cigarette. "Whatever," he said disinterestedly, lighting it up and taking a drag.

"I say, what _are_ you?" Harry inquired.

"Elf," Blobby rasped. Harry looked at him incredulously.

"You don't look like any of the dead elves in the common room," Harry accused.

Blobby shrugged. "My mother was part jello." Harry wrinkled his nose.

"So, er, Boobie--"

"--Blobby."

"--Blobby--why exactly would I die if I went back to Hogwarts?"

"Well," Blobby began, "there's this guy named--"

"Ooooh! Oooooh pick me teacher! Pick me!" Harry waved his hand in the air. Blobby stared at him, then sighed. "What?" he asked.

"Is it Voldemort?" Harry asked eagerly.

"No."

"Is it...Voldemort's evil twin?"

"No."

"His...momma?"

"No."

"His evil teenage mutant ninja turtle?"

"No."

"His pet talking cabbage?"

"NO! NO! NO! SHUT UP! YOU'LL NEVER GUESS THIS SO JUST SHUT UP!!!" Blobby screamed. "LOOK, GO AHEAD AND GO BACK TO HOGWARTS FOR ALL I CARE, JUST DON'T BLAME ME WHEN YOU GET EATEN BY A GIGANTIC SNAKE!" Then he paled, if a blob can do that, and said, "Bad Blobby, bad Blobby." Harry watched him stab himself repeatedly before getting bored and wandering off to munch on wolfberries.

By the time Harry glanced up from the berry bush, now covered in throw-up, it was too late. Blobby was either lying somewhere dying from blood loss or else he'd gone back to whatever sewer he crawled out of. Harry shrugged and went back inside for a cool glass of insecticide to refresh him on this hot summer's day. While the Dursleys fanned him, he snorted contemptuously, "Who could fit a giant snake in that flimsy little castle anyway?"

The next day was Harry's birthday. The zombie-Dursleys waited on him, holding up platters of caviar and placing a crown on his head and a scepter in his hand. At least here, in the summer, people appreciated him and worshipped him like the true tragic hero he was. Harry chose to ignore the fact that the only ones who did this were his addled relatives. Instead he basked in glory—that is, until the doorbell rang. Harry snapped his fingers and Dudley waddled over to answer it, trailing his arms along the floor.

A man and his wife were on the step. "We're here for the dinner with your father to discuss tampon production at his factory…" The man continued after Dudley gave him a blank stare: "You know…Sir Lord Madam Wellingtonley the Third?"

Dudley replied by tugging at the man's scalp, drooling. "Oh god! Zombies! My wife is terrified of zombies!" Sir Lord Madam Wellingtonley the Third shrieked, jumping on top of his wife's head, who fainted. The Dursleys rushed over and made a quick meal of the dormant victims. Harry rolled his eyes and would have gone back to watching one of those hilarious British sitcoms with all the old people, if not for a certain part-elf part-jello standing in the doorway. He loomed above the full and satisfied Dursleys, a cell phone in his hand.

"Sorry, Potter," the elf said dryly, "But Blobby must do this to save Harry Potter from blah blah and the blah blah blah…" He punched three numbers into the phone…

By the time the lights of the sirens flashed through Harry's window, Blobby had conveniently disappeared. Harry himself was busy pacing the living room, wondering how to deal with police investigating his zombie family. But alas and alack, 'twas too late for our hero. He heard his doorbell ring and went to answer it, a dread feeling in his stomach.

A week later found him barricaded in Number Four Privet Drive, which resembled a strange looking fort by now. He'd barred himself into the house after chasing the police out with a vacuum cleaner. He had a bandanna tied around his forehead and a Gatling gun propped out of the living room window. He'd been holding off the cops for what seemed like forever, crying such silly things like "You'll never take me alive!" or "Give me liberty or please go away and leave my man-flesh consuming family alone, brutes!"

The only time he could stop was at night. And since the moment we join him again was night, he was sitting staring outside his window. Because he was rather busy trying to make a spoon stick to his nose, he didn't see what appeared to be a disembodied head in his open window until it was only a foot away from his.

"ARRRRRRRRRRRRGH!!" Harry cried, collapsing in a heart attack.

When he came to, what looked like a girl in a silk blouse with a shock of red hair was bending over him. But when it spoke, it was in a male voice.

"Hey there mate," Ron began. "We thought you'd never come to. We've been waiting till the cows came home!"

"Oh God! The cows? Home?!" And with that Harry fainted again.

The next time he awoke, a young man with a hockey mask and a machete in his hand was peering at him from above.

The _next _time he awoke, the hockey mask man smacked him across the face. "We don't have time for you to keep fainting, Harry! Snap out of it, before the police see the—" he was interrupted by the sounds of gunfire, and the slight thump of two bodies hurling onto the floor before something big exploded just outside of Harry's window. "—car," Jason finished meekly.

"Phew," muttered one of the bodies, who looked exactly like hockey man except for his striped shirt, hat, and claws. "That was a close one…" Freddie got up and dusted himself off, after helping Ron to his feet.

"Crikey, mate!" Ron cried. "We were gonna spring you outta here and take you to our house, but those funny-looking people outside exploded the car! How are we gonna get out of here?!"

Harry grinned. He had just the means. He walked over to his trunk and dramatically pulled out—

"A tampon?" Freddie exclaimed incredulously. "How is that going to help?"

Harry scowled, burrowed farther into his stuff, and finally pulled out a hand-size motorized cart in triumph.

"Er…mate, sorry, but I really don't think we could all fit in that," Jason rolled his eyes.

"I don't really think our eyeballs could fit in that," Freddie observed.

Harry sniffed. "I shrunk it and took it home in June. All I have to do is make it big again and we're good to go."

"Genius—" Ron began.

"Yes, I know I am."

"—of these Muggles to make a lamp shaped like a penguin," Ron said in awe, eyeing Harry's furniture. He looked back at Harry in his Rambo outfit and added, "I say, what _are_ you wearing, mate?" After Harry angrily punched a hole in the wall, he set about trying to engorge the cart to its regular size. Once that was done, he hurriedly flew it out of the window, breaking a few more holes in the wall in the process.

"Climb in!" Harry cried. Hails of gunfire whizzed above his head as Freddie, Jason, and Ron hopped into the cart. As they zoomed upwards, Harry shot the lasers at the cops below. "You'll never take me alive, damn you! For Scotland! For Scotland!!"

"But Harry, you live in England—" Freddie began.

"England! Damn the English and their Longshanks!" Harry shot the lasers at various clouds and cloud accessories, such as birds.

About 439857483 miles and 67 dead birds later, they'd arrived at Ron's house, 'the Burrow' (WTF? Harry thought). As they alighted on the ground and he shrank down the cart and fit it into the truck, the "Burrow" was made clear. Ron lived in a trench.

"Mum and dad's house got bombed by the muggles in WWII," he began. "And then the armies came through here and had a bit of a row and made all these trenches. So we had to live in them."

Harry grimaced. Living in tunnels in the ground did not seem very sanitary. "If you think that's bad, wait till you hear about the molemen," Jason grinned. Harry groaned as he spotted a hairy man with a pointy face scurrying about in one of the tunnels.

"Home sweet home," Freddie crowed. Harry grimaced.

-------------------------

Well? How was it? By the way, I have good news.

Harry: You just saved a bunch of money on your car insurance by switching to Geico?

No. I accept unsigned reviews.

Harry: How is that good news?

It's good news because now you can all….

**REVIEWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!**


	2. Chapter Two: Trench Sweet Trench

I dedicate this chapter to everyone who is helping me along with their sweet sweet reviews. (Please don't kill me when you read it and realize how dumb it is!) I love reviews like molemen love trenches….hehehehe…anyways, thank you ever so much to my darlings: katya, Lily the Looter, Black Triforce, Jenny, Brick retarded weatherman, me gusta books, Mz Hellfire, Sabine Strohem-Moss, Mecha Scorpion, and Kalira.

I know this is very VERY late, so to reiterate: Harry got in trouble with the cops because of that Blobby elf, Freddie, Jason, and Ron have rescued him and now they've arrived at the Burrow via Harry's illegal motorized cart. Er, oh yes, and the Burrow happens to be trenches. And now without delay, please enjoy:

Chapter Two: Trench Sweet Trench

In the middle of Harry's grimacing, a plump redhaired woman popped out of the trenches, fury etched into her face and an excavating helmet with a flashlight attached on her head. "BLOODY BASTARDS!" she roared surprisingly loud for a woman of her looks. "'AVE YOU GOT ANY IDEA OF 'OW ANGRY I AM!"

Harry had rather a good idea, actually, but he wasn't about to say so.

The woman was soon out of the trench and stumbling her way over to them. "CAR—GONE—_hic_—NO—NOTE—YOUR FATHER—_hic_—BLIMEY—"

"Mum, you're drunk again," Freddie sighed.

The woman roared. "DON'T YOU—_hic—_TALK TO ME THAT WAY, JASON!"

"Freddie."

"FRANKY!"

Suddenly Harry gasped. He'd been wracking his brain trying to remember where he'd seen this woman before. Now he remembered.

"You're the one at the train station last fall," he said. "The one with the Pornogon Alley magazine."

The woman, in the middle of a long shouting match, blushed. "Oh, er, I'm sure you're thinking of someone else, my darling. I'd never—_ hic_—be carrying any-anything of the sort, heehee." Suddenly there was a rustling noise and a few Pornogon Ally mags fell down her dress and landed at her feet. The woman, looking very embarrassed, finally stopped her yelling and coughed. "Boys, why don't you—_hic_—come inside and have yer breakfast?"

Breakfast turned out to be mole livers served in the mess trench inside excavating helmets, and Harry was deeply disgusted. When Freddie caught his obvious grimace, he smiled and said, "Get used to it. It's breakfast, lunch, and dinner here." Which of course only deeply depressed Harry even more.

A small squeak was heard from the corner of the trench. A short girl with bright red hair stood there clutching a blankie. "Hey, I remember you!" Harry cried. "You're the girl from the train station with no personality or purpose!"

The girl blushed and her head exploded. She whirled around and ran away.

"That's my little sister Ginny," Ron said. "She _quite_ fancies you, Harry." Harry puffed up with pride. Perhaps she could start a fan club for him.

Jason sighed. "I'd better go after her. We'd usually let her just die from the blood loss, but she's vital to the plot, you know…" Suddenly the gaggle of random fans ran up to Jason and slapped him. "Characters do _not _know the plot!" they cried. However, when Jason pulled out a machete and chopped one of them to bits, they relented and disappeared as randomly as they came. Jason followed Ginny.

Suddenly a lanky man with balding red hair entered the mess trench. "Breakfast, breakfast…hello Molly dear…Freddie, Ron, and—can this be the famous Harry Potter?"

Harry's head once again swelled up to about 2.375 times its normal size, but then Arthur Weasley said, "Didn't we meet at our New Year's party? Any good at all?"

Harry punched the muddy wall of the trench. How much longer would he be subjected to being known for the actions this other Harry Potter committed? But when the wall suddenly leaked out dirt, Harry giggled nervously and patted it.

The whole thing caved in. "Blast," Harry muttered. "Oh, quite alright, it happens all the time," Mr. Weasley assured him.

Harry sighed. "I was sort of afraid of that…"

Life at the Burrow was nothing like life with the Dursley-zombie-things. For one, Mr. Weasley was not exaggerating when he said that cave-ins were a regular occurrence. For another, it was rather hard to keep your food down when you were sitting at a table with a lesbian, a crossdresser, Prissy, and two horror characters. For yet another, Ginny seemed to fancy him and made up for her complete lack of personality by exploding as regularly as possible around him. And for yet _another_, there was so much innuendo in that last sentence I wouldn't be surprised if I got mobbed by those random readers right now.

The days passed by in a dull, slow blur. Harry shared Ron's room, which was a rather disturbing experience he never wanted to talk about. Not only did Ron's shabby rat Scabbers try to kill Harry in his sleep several times, but Ron wore a lacy nightgown to bed. Harry still got nightmares today, wherever he might be, middle-aged and boring or just dead. The only mildly exciting thing that ever happened was when Mrs. Weasly asked the boys to de-mole the trenches. The only good part of that was Harry was not bored to death, only to tears.

Harry was so relieved when summer was at an end and it was time to go to Diagon Alley to buy his new school supplies. There were a bunch of funny-sounding books on his school list, all about some weirdo named Gilderoy Lockhart. _Har de har har har…more like BLOCK-heart_, the cruel part of Harry's mind said. _Hold on, how does that make any sense?_ The reasonable part asked. Harry decided to not think anymore and revel in his brilliance instead. But the time for reveling was over, because there was Mrs. Weasley, getting ready to leave for Diagon Alley with the children clustered about her, holding a large—

_Oh no…_Harry thought when he realized what it was, completely forgetting that he promised not to think anymore.

-

Phew. I know, I know, it took so long and yet it was short and very boring. But its not my fault…this part of the book is so boring, I shoulda prolly skipped it. But I suck so, yeah. And I know it's a cliffhanger and everyone is on the edge of their seats wondering what Mrs. Weasley is holding. If I knew I'd tell you…I just needed to put in something exciting. Don't worry I'll come up with something.

Moleman: It's that time again…..

Mrs. Weasley: No, it's not, I just had the boys de-mole the trenches yesterday!

Moleman: No, not that! It's time to………

……………**REVIEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!**


	3. Chapter Three: A Small, Insignificant Li...

Ah. Oh. I've been fearing this for quite a while (the part where you all bombard me with vegetables for being lazy). As you can see I've sort of, er, cut down on production. Computer troubles and whatnot.

Harry: Wait, wait, so…you're _not_ dead!

No, Harry, I most certainly am not.

Harry: How irresponsible of you.

Are you saying if I had been dead, it would be ok for me to not update?

Harry: Quite so, Your Awesomness.

OK, fine. I died for a while. Now I'm back. Accept it and move on. Since it's been so long, I should probably remind you where we are. Harry's at the burrow and it's time for him to go to Diagon Alley to get school supplies. Now for the….

Disclaimer: I don't own this, don't sue me, blah blah blah this is so ridiculous blah blah blah did you know they artificially inseminate chickens?

Thank you for all the lovely reviews: Sabine Strohem-Moss, Black Triforce, me gusta books, Lily the Looter, Jenny, Mecha Scorpion, Mz Hellfire, the-book-dragon, Kalira (Mrs. Weasley is a lesbian who has kids because she's a closet in-denial lesbian, and I didn't steal Ginny dying all the time from South Park because I, alas, have no cable), Abbs, and Annmarie Aspacia (I forgive you for your mean words haha I know u don't mean them. And duh, I'm evil, look at what I'm doing here). Now on to…..finally….for the first time in months…are you ready?….here we go…almost there….now!

Chapter Three: A Small, Insignificant Little Boy 

"Last time on _Harry Potter and the Coliseum of Secrets…_" a random man I'd stolen off the set of a soap opera trailed off:

…the time for reveling was over, because there was Mrs. Weasley, getting ready to leave for Diagon Alley with the children clustered about her, holding a large—

Oh no…Harry thought when he realized what it was, completely forgetting that he promised not to think anymore.

Yes, that's right. She was holding a large—bag.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Harry screamed. Then he stopped. "Wait a second, I'm not afraid of bags. What sort of climax is that?"

Of course, darling little Harry did not realize the author had been fishing for a way to create suspense last chapter and bit off more than she could chew. Innuendos can be freely interpreted, but I assure you they aren't there on purpose.

"There you are—_hic—_Harry dear. Come on, we're going to travel with Fool Powder."

"FOOL POWDER! I'M NOT GOING TO USE _FOOL _POWDER!" Harry bellowed.

"Shut up, Harry," Fred said calmly, "and use the damn powder."

Harry decided to be a good chap for once and do what he was told, before realizing that he didn't exactly know what the hell Fool Powder was. "Errr…" he tapped the distracted Mrs. Weasley on the shoulder and she dropped her lesbian porn down in a fluster. "Oh, Harry, dear, you simply sprinkle the powder on you after you step into the fireplace."

Harry looked up to the sky, beseeching the author. "You honestly expect me to walk into a fire!" As an answer, the author used her awesome almighty power to make Ron walk up to Harry and smack his ass. "OK, OK," Harry grumbled as Ron stared in horror at his treacherous hand.

Harry strutted—more like cowered—into the fire in the fireplace holding the bag of Fool Powder in one hand.

"NO, HARRY, WAIT, YOU NEED TO PUT THE FIRE OUT FIRST—"

"ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!"Harry cried as he leapt back out of the fire. After everyone had a jolly good laugh at his expense and all the dead skin had peeled off, Harry reentered the now-empty fireplace to do things the right way. He sprinkled the powder onto himself, dubious that it would actually serve its purpose. But lo and behold, a flash of light appeared in the chimney above and a hand suddenly pulled him up the thing by his arm.

Harry allowed himself to be pulled along and was quite surprised when the owner of the hand appeared beside him. It resembled the dead house-elves in Gryffindor tower, except for being alive, and it was dressed in an oversized Santa suit. "I say," Harry let out, "that suit isn't really very convincing."

"What do you expect, kid?" the elf asked. "It's Fool Powder. You want the real Santa, you go buy some Premium." Harry sighed. The Weasleys had to be the _most _cheapskating famil—

"Where to, kid?" the elf asked, shaking Harry from his thoughts.

"Oh, er, Diagon Alley," Harry replied.

"What? Pornogon Alley?"

"No, no," Harry said, since he was only twelve and shouldn't like that sort of thing for two years at least. "_Diagon_ Alley."

"Diagon? Never heard of it. What kinda merch they sell?"

"Uh, books…" Harry trailed off, tired of all the chatter. The elf should have seen the vein twitching in the steroid addict's forehead, but unfortunately he wasn't that bright. As they hurtled through the space that looked like tunnels and tunnels of chimneys, poor Harry was forced to listen as the elf went off on tangent after tangent.

"Ohhhhh, books, no wonder. Never had quite the proper education. See, when I were young my aunt Millie says, I tell you she says to me, 'Artie my boy, ain't not fancy pants job for you. You gonna be a honest hard-workin boy, yes you is', Aunt Millie says to me. Of course, I had to go to school with all the other elves but I never _did_ quite get the knack of lit'racy, but I s'pose 's'all in the blood, y'know BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH—"

"ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!" Harry cried as he began madly throttling the elf. Of course, when you're rushing through a buncha chimneys using Fool Powder and the only thing that's guiding you is a particularly talkative elf, it's usually best to listen to him blubber on rather than trying to kill him. But as we have all learned, Harry is quite the idiot and no amount of stray lightning bolts or slaps to the ass by his male friends will cure that.

"Blimey—" the elf choked out as they bounced along the tunnels haphazardly. When he finally squeezed out of Harry's grip, he shot down one tunnel, disappearing and leaving Harry hurtling down a different path.

"I'll—OW—never travel—OW—with Fool Powder—ARGH—aga—" he was cut short as he tumbled out of the tunnels of chimneys into a fireplace, complete with its very own fire. And so it was that our hero and the spokesperson for the oppressed of Scotland found himself running around like a human roasting marshmallow for the second time that day. He stopped running around long enough to see he was in a strange looking shop and that his archenemy, Malfoy, was entering it with a 40-years-older version of himself. Harry hurriedly hopped into a cabinet, completely forgetting he was still on fire.

"Hello, Slimey McGit," the older man said to the greasy-looking fellow at the counter. "I've brought Draco here for a birthday treat before school." The man's voice was extremely nasal and Harry had an urge to punch his face in.

"Ah, very good, Mister Malfoy," McGit exclaimed. "Girls! Girls, get in here," he called in an accented voice. Two very scantily clad women came out of a back door. "Girls, Master Malfoy is here for a treat!" They led the two men away, and Harry had an urge to follow them. Then, seeing that he'd burnt the whole cabinet to the ground and the shopkeeper was oblivious, he decided…why not? So he left the smoldering wood and went through the back door. However, his perverted plans were thwarted by an unseen bouncer who said "Read the sign buddy. No flaming humans allowed."

And so Harry was thrown out on his ass from "Slimey's Shag Shack". And well he should be. Shame on me, the author, for putting a twelve year old in such a place. Everywhere he looked, there were very R-rated places and low class store names. He had a hunch that he'd accidentally stumbled upon—

"Blimy, Harry, what do you think you're doin' in Pornogon Alley!"

"Rabid?" Yes, there was Rabid with a lingering grin on his face. In fact, he was starting to drool again. Harry glanced around apprehensively. "Oh, look, it's the Weasleys!" he chuckled nervously. "Better go!"

He ran to the redhead family but unfortunately Rabid followed suit. "Oh, Harry dear!" Mrs. Weasley cried out. "What were you doing down Pornogon Alley?"

"Nothing," Harry said glumly. Of course, all the children—and Mrs. Weasley herself—began a longwinded banter about how they'd _always _wanted to see it and how _unfair_ it was and generally made every italicized remark they could. When Harry tired of their tosh, he simply punched a hole through a wall of the now-Diagon Alley and entered the store.

It was filled with books and shelves, but unlike a usual bookstore, this one was also filled with people—mostly paparazzi. "Oh, how giddy!" Harry exclaimed, prancing over, very giddily I might add. A man with a camera ran up to him and began to take pictures. "Oh, yes, admire me!"

"I've got the perfect headline, major!" the man said in a cliché Cockney accent. "Small, Insignificant Boy Punches Hole Through Wall!" Harry was about to yell at him but then he heard someone cry out, "Did someone say small insignificant boy?" A man who looked like Shirley Temple ran and snatched Harry's arm in delight. "Oh, how marvelous! How stupendous! Why, you look just like—"

"Harry Potter the ultra cool hero?" Harry finished for him eagerly.

"—a student! Come with me!" And he pulled the angry Harry to the front of the line. Standing on a desk, the golden haired men cried out "Attention, attention please! Now, this young, boring, insignificant student of Hogwarts came in this rather dingy bookstore expecting to leave it swindled, unhappy, and unwittingly robbed"—this earned him glares from Harry and the store staff—"little did he know that I, Gilderoy Blockhead—err, Lockhart, would be coming to Hogwarts and giving him something to look forward to in his meaningless life! That's right, I'll be taking over as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year, so boring little boys like this one can be astounded and amazed seeing a celebrity every day!"

Harry by now was foaming at the mouth and pouring smoke from his ears. How dare this girlish man call him little, insignificant, and boring all in one overly long speech! It just wasn't right! _I'll show him…_Harry thought angrily after they were done shopping and had gone home. _I'll show him good…_

-------------------------------------

Well, that's all for now. I considered making it longer but decided I'd _never _get done. Besides, it's as long as both previous chappies combined. I hope you liked it. Please don't kill me for the wait. Then again no one probably cares about this monstrosity anyway. I'd also like to say my friend Abbs has made a fanfiction account (Poetic License I think) so go read her stories. You know what to do—

Harry: Kill Lockhart?

No, Harry.

Harry: Make a sammich?

NO!

Harry: Ride a narwhal through the ocean while singing the Little Mermaid song and waving around a stuffed lobster?

NO, NO, NO! YOU'VE GOT TO STOP HAVING STRANGE FANTASIES IN YOUR SLEEP! What I mean was—

Lockhart: REVIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWW!

Harry: YOU AGAIN!

Oh, brother.


	4. Chapter Four: Hogwart's Finest

Hmmm this chapter is mighty short but action packed, oh yes.

Disclaimer: You know the drill, it's not mine, blah blah insert witty remark about the pointlessness of disclaimers here. Also, I do not own Thomas the Tank Engine or any form of wrestling.

Thanks to my reviewers: Poetic License AKA abbs, Sabine Strohem-Moss, Me gusta books, Kalira, Mz Hellfire, Black Triforce, and Weirdly Yours/Jenny.

And also, muchas gracias for the people who are reviewing my first story: Skysong, Arwen 637, ZZ9PluralZAlpha, Ultraviolent catastrophe, and GirlChild1313. Thanks for reviewing and I hope someday you can get this far in my monstrosity to see that I thank you for reviewing. Now without further a due, I present:

Chapter Four: Hogwart's Finest

Harry sat in the Burrow the last day of summer vacation plotting revenge on his enemies, which included Malfoy, Lockhart, and that one moleman who kept stealing his underwear. So he didn't get much sleep and woke up rather cross the next morning. "Harry, Ron!" shrieked Mrs. Weasley. "Get up, get up, it's time for—" Harry was so pissed he punched her in the face and went to get his clothes.

They all arrived at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, but Harry couldn't find his steroid pills so Ron stayed back and helped him search the car while everyone else crossed over the barrier. "Harryyyyyyy…c'mon…I got a bad feeling," Ron said.

"Oh, Ron, shut up, nothing surprising or dangerous will happen to us. NOW WHERE THE HELL ARE MY STEROIDS!"

After much bellowing and punching, Harry had found his pills and was ready to go through the barrier. However, he found that when he took a step towards it, the bricks ejected long metal spikes and burst into flame.

"You were saying?" Ron said sarcastically. "Aww mannnnn," Harry moaned. "If only you were Hermione, she could figure out how to get through," he snapped at Ron. _And break our heads open while she's at it_, came the afterthought.

"Oh man, what do we do, what do we do?" Ron griped. Harry was then struck with a brilliant idea. "Maybe the flames are just an _illuuuuuuuuusion_!" he cried in a mystical voice.

A few minutes later, Ron lay in an ashy heap by the trolley and Harry was banging his head against the wall trying to figure out a plan and where it all went wrong. "Oh, where did it all go wrong?" he moaned.

"Probably—where I ran into the fire—" Ron coughed out weakly. "Oh yeah," Harry said thoughtfully. "But we still need a plan…" he trailed off, leaning against the platform with his hands in his pockets. Then his face lit up as his hand emerged from his pocket holding—

—"Harry, why are you holding a rubber chicken in your hand?" Ron asked wheezily.

"Wait, no, not that," Harry frowned before pulling out his handy dandy miniaturized flying motorized cart.

"Your handy dandy miniaturized flying motorized cart! Well I—HACK—never!" Ron choked out. Soon the cart was enlarged back to its normal size and Harry and Ron were both flying it through the air, Ron slumped over the side looking ill while Harry manned the helm—err, I mean, controls.

"Look, Ron! There's Thomas the Tank Engine!" Harry cried. And sure enough, there was the bright blue train bound for Hogwarts, a grin on his face.

"Au…to…graph-ph…" Ron managed weakly. But autographs were soon out of the question, as Thomas saw Harry's motorized cart and his cheerful grin was traded in for a menacing scowl. "GRRRRRR," went the train as two cannon blasters ejected from his body. The cannons took aim and—BAM—shot cannonballs at Harry. He swerved to avoid them crazily. "What's going on!" Ron cried out.

"This path's only big enough for one of us," Thomas said in that monotone voice that all the trains used. "Prepare to die." And he shot two big cannonballs straight at the boys.

"Quick, capitan!" Harry cried in a fake accent. "Activate ze lasers!" But Ron was too busy throwing up so Harry had to do it himself. But it was alright, as he'd had plenty of practice in Quidditch. Soon, there was an all-out shooting match between the train and the flying cart. It looked like a stalemate until the train suddenly did something that even the author didn't expect.

Thomas lifted off the tracks and soared through the air at Harry. "Wait a second, that's not fair!" he cried. Thomas flew through the air like a long metal dragon until Harry screamed "ENOUGH! THIS IS INSANE! ABSURD! PREPOSTEROUS!"

"Big words can't save you now laddy!" the mad train cried out. Harry whipped his wand out hurriedly and wracked his mind for a spell, when suddenly giant blocks carved out in the word "INSANITY" fell on Thomas. The train howled as he fell back to Earth under the big word, then got back on the tracks and choochooed towards Hogwarts, a few destroyed boxcars in his wake.

"I had to do that," the author, who had just materialized next to Harry, stated.

"But why?"

"Irony, and because you're a total fool and wouldn't remember any of the spells they taught you."

"_What _spells they taught me?" Harry said dryly.

The author frowned and said, "Good point," before disappearing and leaving a relieved Harry in the flying cart. "I believe that's the first time she's ever helped me." A lightning bolt hit Harry and he winced. "Sorry, sorry," he muttered.

A few hours and some very painful collisions later, Harry and the knocked out Ron arrived at Hogwarts. Harry shrunk down the cart and put it in his pocket once more. Soon Ron came to, and rather than going inside the castle him and Harry sat around lighting trees on fire. But they made a wrong move when they lit a tree wearing a spandex wrestling costume around its trunk on fire. The tree picked them up and tossed them straight into an arriving teacher—Professor Snape, the nose on legs, and after him came a giggly Headmaster Dumbledore—that is, Nancy, I mean.

"What is the meaning of this!" Snape screamed. "What did you do to the Whomping Willow! That's our best wrestling tree, you buffoons! And NOT only that, but your little escapade in your bewitched cart killed twelve students inside the train!"

Harry scuffed his feet on the ground. "Gee, mister Nancy, sir, I am ever so sorry. I know I'm a murderer and just broke all the school rules, but I am golly sorry."

"Florgeliuk!" Nancy cried out happily, and all was forgiven. _Welcome to Hogwarts_, Harry thought. Beside him, Ron passed out yet again.

-------------------------------------

I did it! Wow, look how quickly I've updated! And I know the chapter's short but right now it's all I can manage. Don't worry kids, soon school will be out and I'll have a crapload of time to waste on this horror. Now review, or I'll sic Thomas and the WHOOO-O-O-O-O-OOMPING WILLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW on you. Hehehehehe.


	5. Chapter Five: I Can't Believe It's Not

Here it is, inexcusably late and not up to my usual standards.

Thanks to my reviewers: **Jenny**, **Sabine Strohem-Moss**, **Black triforce** (actually, I sort of did get the idea for Nancy from Kung Pow. And was also motivated to do it from fear of writing out Dumbledore so much), **the pure rose** (love your review and I hope u do it more often haha, who are the woogalies?), **MRS-SIRIUS-BLACK**, **me gusta books**, and **kalira**.

Also thanks to these people for reviewing my old story: **certified-weirdo**, **Waendolien**, **Kathryn** (I have, as you can see, already made a second story and I'd love for you to R&R this one too, your review made me feel so happy : ), **Nutz Nina** (will u seriously review every chapter? Thanks!), and **amethyst prongs**.

Disclaimer: Don't own, etc. Now enjoy…

**Chapter Five: I Can't Believe It's Not Better!**

The Gryffindor common room was just as Harry remembered it: bare except for the occasional dead elf. The same went for the boys' dormitory, excepting the cots, of course. They'd missed the Sorting, which was rather sad as the students had to wrestle the troll, something Harry had missed out on last year because the previous troll had been eaten by Rabid. Harry was still able to find a good bottle of insecticide to refresh himself, and also witnessed Rabid sloshing through the halls muttering, "Great man, Nancy".

However, as he found out the next day, Hogwarts now was even worse than last year. And considering the fact that last year, their teachers were fakes under the power of Voldemort, that really was saying something. Of course, no one had warned Harry of the evils of "Girlyboy Lockhart"…Harry is not a very clever boy.

"Oh, you should talk!" Shut up, Harry. Anyways…

Harry sat in melancholy at the breakfast trough the next morning with his friends, staring angrily at the lima bean soup that awaited him as it had every morning, noon, and evening last year. Except for the slight detail that it wasn't filled with mind-warping potions. As I said, slight detail. Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy poked him repeatedly and made funny faces at his back. Ron manicured a nail while Hermione yelled and screamed at them about crashing into the Whomping Willow and the importance of equality in wrestling.

Ginny seemed a bit ODD and DISTANT. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she was having conversations with a dark lord in a book. Then again, nobody is very lively around lima bean soup.

The first lesson of the day for Harry turned out to be Herbology, where Harry realized that Voldemort's replacement of the teachers with imposters last year must not have made a difference, really, as they showed no signs of wanting to teach. Only difference was, instead of bursting into flame and becoming ash when asked questions about their subjects, they merely gave the student a bop on the head, or in Professor Sprout's case, clipped their ears with pruning shears.

In the middle of class, Lockhart burst into the greenhouse just as Sprout was feeding a giant Venus flytrap by the doorway.

"_Hullo_, all!" beamed the Shirly-Temple-esque man, as the door knocked Professor Sprout flying into the jaws of the flytrap. "Oh, dear me, it seems your professor is rather indisposed at the moment. I suppose Í will have to teach for the remainder of the class. Let's see, let's see"—the flytrap spit up a few bones—"ah yes, I believe the time when I discovered the formula for herbal straightening shampoo will do. Now, it was a quiet day in Maybury when my magnificent self was striding roguishly along and I just so _happened_ to…"

Harry didn't hear what else the girlish man was saying, as his ears were filling the room with steam. "How DARE he try to be more famous than me!" The boy grit his teeth and punched Lockhart in the face.

"Aieeeeee!" Blockhart squealed. "My nose! You crooked my nose!"

"Why, yes," Harry said. "I do believe I did."

"Ohhhh, I remember you," Blockhart narrowed his eyes. Harry smiled and waited for the recognition of his fame. "Yes, you're that small insignificant boy from the book store! Now, my boy, you're going the wrong way for fame. Punching a celebrity of prestige like mine is quite a good start, I'll say, but you're going to need more pizzazz than that! I can teach you, small insignificant boy. You could become my disciple, yes—"

Meanwhile, the smoke from Harry ears had made the flytrap cough out Professor Sprout, sans some of her limbs but bleeding quite profusely. "LOCKHART—OUT!" she bellowed, spitting out blood. He looked squeamishly at the gorey mess before bowing to his audience and quickly gliding out of the classroom.

Harry had never had more appreciation for bleeding Herbology professors in his life, even if he was missing a chunk from his ear.

"Oh, he's _dreamy_!" Hermione sighed, her beaver-like hair wobbling.

"Fancy him then?" Ron asked angrily. For no reason other than Ron is ALWAYS angry with her for some reason or another. It must be love!

"NO!" Hermione bellowed back, her buckteeth flashing dangerously. She went back to writing "Mrs. Gilderoy Lockhart" all over her notebooks, her arm, and eventually Ron.

Harry just couldn't believe it could get worse. "This just couldn't get any—"

"Don't say it!" Ron yelled, but it was too late.

"Hello, Potter," Snape appeared next to Harry, spitting his last name at him. Harry wiped his robes as Snape sneered. "FIFTY POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR FOR WIPING YOUR ROBES OF MY HOLY SPITTLE!" He screamed hoarsely before turning into a bat and flying through the nearest window.

Just then Oliver Wood and his unibrow strolled up. "See you at next Squidditch practice. It's sure to be quite grueling since we have to ride broomsticks this year." And he walked off, his unibrow leaving a trail of knocked out people in its wake. Harry groaned and put his head in his hands.

"You OK, mate?" Freddie and Jason asked together as they sat down with him and the others.

"I just can't believe it's not better," Harry said sadly.

----------------------------

And I can't believe that Microsoft Word didn't say the word "pizzazz" was incorrect.

Harry: You know what else I can't believe?

Errrr…

Harry: I can't believe that you've had months to write this, AND that now school is over and you have no life, all you manage to turn out is this horrible excuse for a chapter!

Well, you do have a point there, Harry…sorry, kids, I spose there is no excuse for not updating anymore…I'll try, honest, I will.

Harry: Not to mention that practically nothing happened!

I was reintroducing my version of Hogwarts! That was the WHOLE point! And if I hear one more critism out of your damn mouth I'll—

Harry: Oh, you're bluffi—

Oh my, it seems Harry has tragically been eaten by an elephant. Now REVIEWWWWWWWWWWWWW! Or I'll sic it on you next!


	6. Chapter Six: A Gala Event

Thanks to my lovelyyyy reviewers: Sabine Strohem-Moss, the pure rose (I removed the review button? For real? How did I manage to do that!), Black Triforce, Jenny (Blockhart and Girlyboy are Harry's attempts at humor—and mine—Gilderoy Lockhart is his real name in this), Me gusta books (I live in the good old US of A), nutz nina (wow u reviewed a LOT! You've got a twin? Cool!) and poetic license AKA abbs.

You know something? My fans are better than your fans. My fans are undemanding and appreciative. I have the bestest reviewers in the world. Then again, I only have about five remaining fans…well, let's not focus on that. My eternal thanks and smoochies to you all! You are the fuel that feeds this monstrosity! (Shame on you).

Disclaimer: I didn't steal this unlawfully, I swear! It was the Communists! The Communists! (hehe…you'll see)…and without further ado…enjoy:

Chapter Six: A Gala Event

Harry returned from Squidditch practice that October day limping and exhausted. Riding a broomstick was as grueling as Wood described it to be, even one month into school, and Harry fingered the mini motorized cart in his pocket wistfully. That damn broom really had given him quite the ache around his—

"Oh, hello, Harry!" Harry turned to see Nearly Cockless Nick floating up to him. "Just the boy I wanted to see!"

"What is it, Nick?" Harry asked, too wary of the sex offender ghost to tell him to get stuffed.

"Well you see, my boy, five hundred years ago I died, and therefore, I am holding a huge, marvy party in the dungeons on Halloween!"

"What's that got to do with me?" Harry snapped.

"Why, you're the guest for the occasion!" Harry puffed up with pride. "Well, I do hold myself to the—"

"You see," Nick continued. "Having someone like you there will make me look so much better and heroic in comparison, because when it all comes down to it, you're really just a small, ordinary little boy."

Harry struggled to compose himself. Gritting his teeth, he said, "And why would _I_ wanna come?"

"I've hired strippers."

Harry immediately brightened, even though I cannot stress how young he was for this sort of thing, and accepted Nick's invite. Much cordiality ensued and Halloween night, Harry found him, Ron, and Hermione dressed to maim (if not kill) and ready to descend to the infamous dungeons. On the way there, they passed rooms that had suspicious, bloodcurdling screams and cries of "Oh, God, why!" coming out of them. Hermione had a bit of an accident with a rack and screw sticking out of one closet, and Ron gasped in fright at the grime, blood, and soot gathering on his designer shoes. In fact, Harry had no idea why anyone would come down here of their own free will. Except Slytherins. Slytherins obviously delighted in filth and death!

Nick had neglected to mention that the strippers were ghosts, and old ones at that. Harry wandered around the party trying to avoid the ghosts and find food. Ron beat him to it, however, and Harry saw him devouring some strange kind of rotten cheese, then promptly throwing up,

"Harry, so good of you to join us!" Nick cried. "Have some refreshments!"

Harry looked at the table and Ron. "Erm, I'll pass for now, Nick." Suddenly another ghost floated up to them. "Hullo, Harry, I'm Moaning Myrtle and I died in a bathroom fifty years ago. I am an extremely important plot device."

Harry, sadly, was too busy brushing lint off his shoulder. "Harry?" the ghost sobbed. "Did you hear me?" But then Peeves the poltergeist floated up and threw oats or something at Myrtle and she floated away gibbering, chased by those annoying random people who punish characters for giving away the plot.

Hermione came over and said, "This party's dead."

"Well, of course it is," Nick frowned. "It is my Deathday party…now, would anyone want a demonstration of why I am Nearly Cockless?" he brightened at the prospect.

The trio shot out of the dungeon, Hermione knocking over the table of food and tripping several ghosts, which looked impossible but obviously not for one of her skill. They strolled around until Harry suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. "I'm hearing a voice!" he said cheerfully. Then he remembered that he was supposed to be dark and angsty. "I mean…a voice doth stir across my heavy, barren heart, fair comrades."

"COMRADES?" Snape rushed toward them. "I always knew you were a Communist, Potter, you and ALL your little _comrades_! Three HUNDRED points from Gryffindor!" He rushed off as fast as he came. Harry blinked. "Er…it's coming from over here." He led them to a dark, secluded corridor that just screamed danger and mystery. There was something moving in the corner. And that's when Harry heard the voice again.

_Meow…meowww…_

"Why, it's Mrs. Norris!" Ron said with a mischievous grin. "I do believe we could have a bit of fun with this!"

Ten minutes later, Mrs. Norris had been tied to a torch, transfigured into a duck, snake, and cat again (well, at least _Hermione_ had been learning) and finally Petrified by Ron just for shits and giggles.

Suddenly, Harry heard footprints. "Uh oh, I hear someone!" Ron was busy writing things onto the wall. "Hello!" Harry exclaimed again. "I said there's someone coming!" Harry looked at his 'friend'. "I say, what ARE you writing?"

Ron replied offhandedly, "There's a sale going on at Target that I thought everyone should know about."

The footsteps were just round the corner.

"Aw, shit, we're gonna get it now," Ron said sadly. But Harry had an IDEA!

"Potter!" McGonagall's voice cried out. "What is the meaning of this! Dead cats! A sale at Target!"

"As you can see, Minerva, the boy is clearly a Communist," Snape said, making his voice actually _sound _oily.

"I can explain, Professor!" Harry cried. "It wasn't us! It was the Monster of Slytherin!" Hermione added. "What!" everybody exclaimed. She shrugged. "Those random slapping people really know a lot once you get them drunk enough," she explained.

McGonagall scratched her head. "Well…" she paused. "Sounds plausible, I suppose. Alright, you're all free to go."

"Not just yet, Minerva! Babock!" Nancy said in a stern voice. Harry held his breath, awaiting a stern punishment, when Nancy put on a bright smile. "Fifty points to Gryffindor, for fraud and lying to a teacher!" Then Nancy skipped away happily.

_Nooooo…framed…hungry…eat…devour…hungry…I'll get you kids for this…devour…if it's the last thing I dooooo!…manburger…_

"A voice!" Harry exclaimed. Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, Harry, last time you said that, it turned out to be a cat!"

"NO! It was a real voice, and it's gonna kill me!" Harry shrilled wildly.

"…Nutter," Ron said.

Harry didn't sleep that night, and instead spent it turning restlessly on his cot, scared that whatever thing the voice belonged to was going to eat him in his sleep. And also scared about what would happen when Snape found out he was in fact a member of the Communist Party, and had been for seven years.

----------------------------------

There we go…nice long-ish chapter, you could say. I'm trying to update more often. I will definitely update even oftener though, if you….

REVIEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!


	7. Chapter Seven: Kill Them All!

Short. Very, _very_ short. But the next chapter is on its way! Guess what…I had this whole chappie written BEFORE I posted Six...look how good and update-ful I am being! OMG Half-Blood Prince was amazing…now we're waiting for the final book…I hope she doesn't disappoint. These are without a doubt my favoritest books in the world…

Thanks to: dolphin face, black triforce, the pure rose (don't worry, reviews are ALWAYS awesome!), me gusta books (I'm from Maryland…fun fun, eh? And I am in fact an incredibly boring person to talk to : I don't think I should post my SN here for all the cyber world to see haha), Nutz Nina (thanks for the long review, and I love your ideas, haha. Target's a cheap store, btw), abbs (thanks hehe)

And someone named SEXY BABE left me an interesting review for Sorcerer's Stoned: "YOU SERIOUSLY SHOULD ADD A LOT OF PORN IN THIS STORY AND CHANGE THE RATING TO R. A LOT OF PEOPLE LIKE TO READ ABOUT WHORE HOUSES IN DETAIL AND WHAT GOES ON INSIDE OF THEM IN INTRICATE DETAIL."

Er, well, I suppose if you like to read about whore houses in intricate detail there are places for that…but ummm I really don't think you could call that a story. More like written porn. This review made me laugh a lot. Sorry, Sexy Babe. This is supposed to be comedy, so please get your dirty smut elsewhere, thanks. And if you did use the search engine for keywords PORN WHORE SEX etc, I have no idea why my story came up. OK, moving on…

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Or Lucky Charms. Or Reese's Puffs.

Chapter Seven: Kill Them All!

Harry really didn't feel up to eating the usual lima bean soup the next morning, as he was too busy glancing over his shoulder for a monster or something. Luckily, he'd gone shopping a while ago and bought a large box of Lucky Charms at Giant. He had just poured a large heap into his section of the trough when suddenly the box in his hand caught a bullet and fell to the ground. He stared wordlessly at Hermione, who held a smoking pistol in her hand. "You dare to forsake the sacred Reese's Puffs!" she shrieked. "The Reese's Puff's taste is what it is, goddamn you!"

Not wanting to deal with an invisible monster _and _an enraged Hermione, Harry left to go contemplating. On the way he passed Ginny, who was hugging her knees and babbling like a madman, and Ron, who looked like last night's cheese hadn't agreed with him. He stopped to talk with Ginny. "You're looking awful nervous for someone with no personality," he said smoothly. Her head promptly exploded, and Harry sighed and walked away.

He saw a sign in the Great Hall. It was a challenge to read as knives were falling from the enchanted ceiling, but Harry made out the words "dueling", "club", and "7 PM". Well , technically, 7 is not a word…anyways, he quickly assessed this as an opportunity to show his worth. 7 PM that day found him in a shabby room filled with other people wanting to take out their anger/depression on others. Then strode in the man Harry really wanted to hex. Girlyboy himself.

"_Hullo_, all!" Girlyboy cried out happily. "And how are the masses? Jolly good! Now, it's time to—D-D-D-D-D-DUEL!"

Platforms rose from the ground, on either side of a large field. Suddenly Snape turned up. He and Girlyboy occupied the two platforms, while the students filed into the field and pulled out their wands. Faint Yugioh music tinkled in the background. Harry found himself facing Malfoy.

"You'll never defeat me Kaiba! I believe in the heart of the cards!" Harry cried. Malfoy wrinkled his brow in confusion. "Kaiba?" he drawled.

Harry laughed. "For Scotland!" he cried triumphantly as he shot a laser at Malfoy though his wand. Malfoy screamed in a high-pitched voice and climbed on top of Snape's head. "Silly, useless boy," Snape hissed, trying to blindly feel his way around his tower. "Can't beat a Commie!" Snape accidently tripped over the gate to his tower and fell to the ground below, much to Harry's delight.

"Now you're mine, Malfoy!" Harry shrilled. Crab and Gargoyle, those strange, misshapen sidekicks, made suggestive "ooooo" noises in the background. Harry reddened. "No! That's not what I mean! You—"

But by now everyone had gathered in a ring around Harry, making more suggestive noises and laughing. Harry's veins bulged; his steroid addiction wasn't helping. "GODDAMN YOU ALL! GODDAMN YOU FOR BEING SUCH DIRTY MINDED FREAKS! I'M A TWELVE YEAR OLD BOY! NO TWELVE YEAR OLD BOY WANTS IT UP THE ASS, NO MATTER _WHAT _THEY WRITE ON FANFICTION! ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!"

A big snake popped out of Harry's wand. "KILL THEM ALL!" he screamed, but the snake didn't seem to hear him. Harry got his Parseltongue dictionary out, "SSSWISSHHHH HWISSH SHWIH!" he tried again. The snake finally understood and began taking bites out of Neville Longbottom. Unfortunately, Neville was a robot. The snake flopped onto the ground in a long crispy line and withered. "Oh, blast," Harry muttered.

"So, Harry, you can speak Parseltongue?" Ron asked nonchalantly. "That's pretty neat."

"Yes," Harry agreed as they were walking back to their dormitories. Once the MediWizards had arrived at the scene, the Dueling Club wasn't as fun anymore. "My dad left me the dictionary for it, actually. The note said it had been passed down through the family. Old heirloom, you know?"

"That's perfectly reasonable. No reason to think that since that book has been handed down from generation to generation in your family, and that Salazar Slytherin was the only known Parseltongue, that you're the Heir of Slytherin. That'd just be ludicrous," Ron replied. "Oh, look, here's Ginny!"

It was indeed Ginny. For once her head didn't explode. "I've got to tell you something!" she cried monotonously. "I've been typing into a laptop that is actually the Heir of Slytherin!"

"Sorry, what was that?" Harry asked.

Ginny exploded. Ron sighed. "Bound to happen, sooner or later. Did you catch what she said?"

"Nope. But don't worry," Harry laughed. "I'm sure it was about nail polish or boys or something dumb. After all, she's just a _girl_. A FIRST YEAR girl!"

"Ho ho ho!" Ron laughed merrily, and they skipped off to bed.

----------------------------------------

Turns out my baby, Sorcerer's Stoned, is in a C2 thingy. How grand! Not quite sure how that happened…and I also got some "hits". What is a hit? Is it a hit in reference to pot, or a different hit? (BTW, don't do drugs, stay in school, etc…). Could someone please tell me?

Oh and, REVIEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!


	8. Chapter Eight: Tom Riddle Revealed LOL

Thanks to my reviewers: **the pure rose**, **Black Triforce**, **Nutz Nina**, **me gusta books** (I didn't see a lot of HBP coming, but I have this tendency to skip to a page where something big's revealed, so I knew early on who the HBP was), **aka-kitsune-chan** (I might parody all the books…depends on if I get a good response when I'm done with this), **Jenny**, and **abbs**, And thanks to_ **aka-kitsune-chan**, **Anonymous** and **Tim Lin **for reviewing SS_. C'mon, guys, review for poor little me. I'm trying for an average of ten reviews per chapter…meaning we're like twenty behind right now! Where are all my old reviewers? I miss you people (sniffle).

To compensate for my lack-of-updating ness and how short Chappie the Seventh was, I have written this huge amazing long chapter. _Before_ I put out Chapter Seven. OK, how completely responsible am I, eh?

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the Wizard of Oz. Unlessssss….wait, no.

Without delay I give you…

Chapter Eight: Tom Riddle Revealed (LOL)

The next day, Harry was trying to make his way to class, but tripped over a random student with a long, hard to spell last name. "Bugger!" Harry snarled. He took out his wand and Petrified the jerk. Another possibly unmentioned student cried "You killed Kenny—I mean, Justin!" and took a picture of Harry as proof. Harry petrified him, too.

"Geez, Harry, how will you get off detention for this?" Hermione queried. "I'll just say the Monster of Slytherin thing did it," Harry said cheerfully and went on his way.

That evening, Harry was called to Professor McGonagall's office. "Potter, explain yourself! Two Petrified students all found near you! Can you possibly fathom the sort of damage they do to the floor!"

"It wasn't me, Professor!" Harry whimpered. "It was the Monster of Slytherin, I tells ya!"

From the walls, the voice cried..._Asshole…kid…devour…you…all day…ketchup….mustard…devourrrr…_

"Potter, what the bloody hell are you blithering about?" she yelled, nostrils flaring and sucking small objects off the floor.

"You know, that thing that crawls around in the walls and talks to me."

She stared at him incredulously. "Potter…you're mad."

"MAD? MAD! I'll have you know I'm—"

"Completely stark raving mad, I know, and a Communist as well, if what Snape says is true!"

Harry paused. _Can't argue with that._

"Boy, if you can't prove that there actually is some sort of monster crawling around the school, then I'm afraid you're going to have to be expelled. Damage to students is not taken lightly at this school. We may even tug you out by the ear, Potter."

_Damn you…stupid kid…I will…just wait…you…._

"But, but you have no idea what this will do to my public image—and my ear!" Harry cried desperately. McGonagall flared up again. "Out of my office, Potter, and if you don't come back with any evidence, consider yourself expelled and ear-tugged!"

And that was that.

Harry now found himself feared wherever he went, since he was so trigger-happy with his wand and eager to Petrify any kid who looked at him funny. They even began calling him the Heir of Slytherin. Harry, of course, lapped this publicity up like honey at first, but found it tiring when everyone began to avoid him. _Oh bother. I'm going to have to prove that thing is actually there now, or else no one will talk to me and recognize my fame. Oh yes, and I'll be expelled. How unfair._

Harry wasn't sure where to start, so he decided to take a stroll around the school's many bathrooms. Unfortunately, he ran into that annoying Myrtle character, who sobbed when he told her to bugger off. _Oho, what's this? _He went over to the sink and saw a laptop sitting on the edge.

Now, Harry had had only one experience with computers at Hogwarts before, during which he and Draco Malfoy had read an enormous quantity of outrageous fanfiction and Harry had smashed the computers in hopes of ridding the world of evil. Even now, he lay in bed sometimes, shuddering and cursing Fanfictionfantom with all his heart for her cruel remarks. Naturally, when he saw that laptop, he froze.

"Oh dear God…" Harry pulled out his trusty sledgehammer, only wishing Rabid was here to help him out with his huge pink machete. But no matter how many times Harry beat that laptop, not so much as a spring popped out. "Damn you, evil instrument of Hades!" He tried splashing water on it, but no results. Finally, he decided to flush it down the toilet. To his dismay, it shot out of the bowl and hit him smack in the face. "WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!" Harry screamed.

Just then Ron came in, holding a makeup case. "Oh!" he exclaimed when he saw a sopping wet Harry kneeling in front of the sink. "H-Harry, I-I didn't know you'd be here!" he exclaimed.

"Ron, what are you doing in a girl's bathroom?"

"Well, me and Myrtle, we like to play around with makeup, a-a-and I could ask the very same of you!" Ron retorted angrily.

"I was taking a stroll and I found this tool of the devil here," Harry said. Ron wrinkled his brow. "I think dad's had one of those before. There's naked women inside." Harry looked at the computer dubiously. "How do you fit a naked woman in there?"

"Dunno, but dad manages, I suppose." Ron said.

"Well, then, by all means, let's go try it out!" Harry cried enthusiastically, no longer scared of the machine.

"Can't, Harry, Myrtle's expecting me, remember?" And so Harry left Ron in the bathroom so he could go try and find these naked women, and perhaps help them get out of the laptop, even though as I keep saying, he is _much _too young for this sort of thing.

Back in the boys' dormitory, Harry balanced the laptop on a cot and eagerly hooked the plug into a conveniently placed socket. The computer screen flashed into life. "What now?" Harry asked no one in particular. So he wrote in, _Where are the naked women?_

He waited for a bit…then writing flashed across the screen under his own words: **LOL, what naked women? It's just me here.**

_Are you a naked woman? _Harry typed.

**OMG, LOL, noooo! I'm totally not, LOL. **

_I'm Harry Potter._

**Oooo, my name is Tom Riddle.**

_Oh…so…what's up, Tom?_

**Nm, u?**

_JC. _Harry was getting the hang of this computer lingo. He decided to ask this random stranger if he knew anything about the Monster of Slytherin. And he did.

**Oh, lol, I remember that jount! Yeah, haha, when I was at Hogwarts some kid opened the Coliseum of Secrets and like totally unleashed mayhem, lol!**

_Coliseum of Secrets? What's that?_

**Why don't I…show you…**

And suddenly the writing disappeared. A movie flashed onto the screen. Harry seemed to have found the naked women, but unfortunately, the screen went black again.

**Sorry, wrong movie.**

And then Harry found himself staring at a kid with dark hair walking around Hogwarts. He passed a younger Dumbledore, who waved merrily at the boy and said, "Fiddle!" and strode into a dark room. "Excellent," the boy whispered, and cried "_Lumos!_" to illuminate a small house elf bearing a parcel.

"Have you got it?"

"Yes, Master Riddle, I has."

"Well, it had better be the right flavor." Riddle opened the package to reveal a small pastry and bit into it. "Blueberry. Very good." And the screen faded back to black.

**LOL, as you can see, it was Rabid who opened the Coliseum of Secrets and let out the Monster of Slytherin.** **All these lions and tigers got out and lyke maimed 50 people. Some chik died in the bathroom LOL.**

_So who opened it now?_

**I dnt knw, lol. Wanna exchange pix?**

Harry shuddered. _Errr…g2g._

**Cya : (**

Harry switched off the computer. So, it was Rabid who let loose the Monster of Slytherin. Maybe if he asked Rabid about it, he could figure out a way to prove that the monster actually existed.

He found Rabid inside his hut, eating a small child. "Hello, Harry, how rrrrrrrr goes it bloooood?" Rabid slurred,

"Rabid, did you open the Coliseum of Secrets?" Harry asked rather blatantly.

"Me? Noooo! I was, ngggggh, framed! Raarrrrr!" Rabid was getting increasingly full of rage, and some troll policemen came to take him to Azkaban. "Follow, grrrr, the yellow brick rooooooaddddd, Harry, guts guts freshmeat!" Rabid yelled, frothing. And indeed, there was the yellow brick road leading all the way into the forest.

Harry followed, followed, followed, followed that yellow brick road all the way to as magical land, where a wizard told him that he must use the force, and also that the whole thing was a sham and no one opened the Coliseum of Secrets 50 years ago, and that Rabid was framed, and that the girl who was Moaning Myrtle who seemed like a big plot device was actually killed in a freak plumbing accident, and that the teachers framed the Monster of Slytherin much like young Harry does now, and that you have no idea how much I, the author, was stumped by all these plotholes I had created for myself.

Harry had found the strange wizard extremely useful, but was no closer to achieving fame, wealth, or power. Oh yes, and he still didn't know how to prove the Monster of Slytherin existed. He wanted the wizard of this strange land to follow him home and testify, but the man said he was waiting for some chick named Dorothy, so Harry left alone and defeated. Riddle had lied to him. Even those merry Munchkins couldn't cheer the poor kid up.

Harry went to the library to try and find more information, but Hermione was being so annoying that he just had to Petrify her. The hubbub this deed created was no environment for his research, so he went to bed so gloomy he didn't notice that the whole dormitory was in tatters and the laptop was….

….gone.

------------------

Harry: Way to end it on a dramatic note.

I'll have you know I am the master of dramatic exits!

Harry: Sure…

Oh shut up and let them review. C'mon, folks, I'm beggin ya…I gave you this nice loooooong chapter. Nice long chapter that even has….THE PLOT! Amazing, eh? AND I've got chapters nine and ten written out. I won't update till you guys get me to 80 reviews, I know you can do it! The least you can do is…..

REVIEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! (Please tell me if you'd prefer that I just skip my shout-outs and AN's at the beginning and get to the story at once. Think of it as errrrr a fun survey for all! Also, I'm not really happy with the way the story's turned out. My first was better. Should I just delete this and pretend I quit while I was ahead, or what?)


	9. Chapter Nine: The Joy of Squidditch

Thanks toooooo: **Sabine Strohem-Moss** (thank you for the lovely compliments blushes), **black triforce** (of course you count for something! I'm trying to guilt-trip my non-reviewers hehehe…), **Weirdlyyours AKA Jenny**, **Me Gusta books** (Twice! Thankyouthankyouthankyou! It's a pretty stretched goal, but I can always hope haha!), **Abbs**, **Gemma, CookieJunkie**, and **AnonymousReaderWhoReviewsSoOften** (which is GOOD!),

Thank you to **The Anonymous One** for reviewing SS (some of those chapters were written on Wordpad—meaning no spell check—and during last fall and winter—meaning no FFF check as FFF was too busy with her goddamn procrastination. So the grammar wasn't the best, harhar) and **Gemma**.

And big, big, BIG ups to **the pure rose** for reviewing sooooo many freaking times, her good thinking skills, and her opinions! Thank you! My eyes widened impossibly seeing that many reviews in my inbox hahaha. This chapter's for you! (Hey, dedicating chapters as a new reward for reviewing? I think I may be onto something here…)

Disclaimer: Don't own anything you recognize, duh. Thomas the Tank Engine and Reese's Puffs and Wizard of Oz stuff belongs to…well…someone other than me. Now without further a due (could this get any longer!) here's…

Chapter Nine: The Joy of Squidditch

It was once again time for everyone's favorite game, Squidditch! Harry, being the Finder, woke up bright and early to get to the pitch in time, having completely forgotten about Petrifying his best friend the night before. Once the game was started, however, he wished he'd hid in his bed. "Owwwwwwwwwwww …Oliver, this broom hurts my—"

"Harry, shut up and play the game!" Team Captain and Unibrow Practitioner Oliver Wood used his huge unibrow to knock any Pursuers trying to score goals out of the air. Fangirls, for some reason, swooned at this disgusting display.

Harry floated around lazily, occasionally blowing bubbles and painting his nails. You'd think he'd try harder, what with Malfoy being the new Finder for Slytherin and a total prat besides. But no, that's our Harry.

But something was wrong. Now that he thought about it, something was poking his head repeatedly. He turned to see what it was and immediately got his face smashed in by the offending Bonker.

"ARRRRRRRRGH!" Harry screamed bloody murder, not noticing that Blobby the House Elf was running a bit suspiciously across the grounds. And the arena darkened. Because suddenly, there, floating in the sky, was Thomas the Tank Engine, presumed dead but obviously not.

"I'm going to kill you, Harry," Thomas stated in that monotone voice.

"Shit!" Harry cried, zooming away on his broom. The Bonker and the Tank Engine followed closely. "Damn damnit damndy damn damn!" Harry cried. "This looks like a job for—SUPER-MOTORIZED-CART!"

Harry flicked the cart out of his pocket and enlarged it. Once he was inside, he felt much much better, especially in his—

"Potter, behind you!" Wood cried. And there was Malfoy, throwing hard objects like wrenches and knives at poor Harry, closely followed by the Bonker and Thomas. This really was not his day.

But then, there it was—the Golden Squid, like a beacon in the darkness, a meatball in the spaghetti, a—OK, just those two. Harry reached out—he was about to win the game! And, unfortunately, that was the precise moment that Malfoy, Thomas, and the Bonker smashed into him.

"YEEEEOOOOOOOOW!" Harry howled. "OH MY GOD, YOU CANNOT BELIEVE THE HORRENDOUS PAIN!"

"Harry!" Ron cried from the stands. "Use the force!" Harry gasped—the wizard in Oz had told him to do that as well. _Use the force_…And suddenly it came to him, like a coconut in the lime, like a—better not start this again…Harry switched on his lasers and whirled the cart around.

"Prepare to die, assholes!" Harry yelled triumphantly. "FOR SCOTLAND! RAHHHH!" The lasers shot Malfoy out of the air, and everyone cheered as he lay dying on the ground, for all Slytherins are hated and prejudiced against. It is the way of the good guy.

ZAP. BOOM. ZAMMO. Strange words used to describe sounds floated around so much that it was THIS close to becoming an old Batman movie. Harry shot down the Bonker, the train, and even some random team members. The crowd cheered—at least, the part of the crowd not crushed by the body of Thomas. Harry grabbed the Squid and yelled "I won the game! Go me!"

He made a spectacular dive back to his broomstick, where he shrunk the cart, put it in his pocket, and headed for the ground.

Ron threw him a box of Reese's Puffs in celebration, which, unfortunately, hit out hero on the head rather than in the mouth, and Harry fell to the ground and broke eight bones.

His stay in the hospital wing for the next month was not an enjoyable one. Nurse Pomfrey was a sadist who believed in pulling teeth and other wicked Muggle practices, and Harry was happier than you can imagine upon his release. Ron decided to take him on a detour to the kitchens for a celebration feast.

But instead of house-elves running around like the script said, there were short little round men wearing funny clothes who looked an awful lot like…

"Merry little Munchkins?" Harry exclaimed, recognizing the once-jovial folk as the ones he'd met following the yellow brick road to Oz. "What the fu—"

"What's a Munchkin, Harry?" asked Ron, who was peculiar in the fact that he'd never seen television before and yet knew about Thomas the Tank Engine.

"More importantly, why the hell are there Munchkins here?" Harry queried. The Munchkins looked around in fear and one replied in a fearful whisper, "When the last house-elf died, Dum—Nancy—stole and enslaved us to make food for him! You've got to tell the people!" Harry gaped, not knowing what to say.

"Harryyyyyy!" Ron whined, breaking the silence. "What's a Munchkin?" he repeated.

Fortunately, poor Harry was saved from having to tell Ron about Munchkins, as there came a huge crash from the other side of the room and Nancy pranced by. "Squiggick, boys!" he cried merrily to Ron and Harry, whipping the Munchkins back to work as he passed. Moments later, the Wizard Harry'd met in Oz ran by yelling, "Stop that man! He stole my minions of Hades—er, Munchkins!" Harry blinked again, then shrugged and looked for patries.

Yes, he and Ron had many a good time, including setting Girlyboy's pants on fire and such.

But then Snape came and ruined all the fun, telling Harry to stop burning professors and get his Communist ass in Nancy's office. Harry gulped. And sweated. And shivered.

"Well, don't just stand there being nervous, you lackwit!" Snape cried. "Get on with it! And I hope you fall down the stairs and get what's coming to you!" He turned into a bat again and flew into the sunset.

Harry stood and made his way to Nancy's place. It wasn't easy, mind you. He had to run up a never ending staircase until it…well…ended. Then he had to battle a giant gargoyle armed with a rubber chicken. And _then _he had to spend five weeks living with complete strangers on a deserted island in order to win some prize money. Finally, he made it. Harry put his hand on the doorknob and slowly opened the door…

-----------------------------

Just a bit of randomness before I get on with that whole thing…what was it called? Ah yes, the plot. I'll come back to that next chapter.

REVIEWWWWWWWWWWW! I swear I'm not updating till I get up to 90 reviews total…I've got the next chapter written out and everything. So c'mon, or I'll keep you waiting.


	10. Chapter Ten: The Monster of Slytherin

Mucho thanks to: **Katya **( that's the funniest review I've ever gotten), **Sabine Strohem-Moss**, **the pure rose** (I didn't know anyone cared so much, haha! I'll probly let the others get a chance to read it before posting this one…it's weird to type it out because it'll be posted by the time you all read it so…damn time paradoxes!), **Black Triforce**, **TheAnonymousOneWhoReviewsSoOften**, and **Gemma**.

This chapter, quickly posted by popular demand, is once again dedicated to the pure rose. Haha, it's alright, you don't have to review more than once. As long as I know people are reading this, I'm fine. Besides it feels like cheating, teehee. But thanks so much! It's long and plotful and very dumb—the chapter I mean. Hope you like it.

Disclaimer: Don't own ANYTHING. Except jeans and this computer. So please don't sue. Now back to your regularly scheduled program…

Chapter Ten: The Monster of Slytherin

Harry entered Nancy's office, nerves tingling. "Why, hello, Harry!" Nancy cried, adjusting his giant golden pilot goggles cheerily. "And what brings you here?"

"Errr…you called for me?" Harry tried.

"Why yes!" Nancy said jubilantly, adjusting his honky doorag. "I'm afraid I have some very bad news to tell you. Your good friend Hermione has been Petrified. Want a lemon drop? Skiffle!"

Harry blinked sheepishly. "Ahh…yeah, about that…"

"Now, Harry, don't be silly! I of course know it wasn't you! You have told us it was the Monster of Slytherin, correct?"

"Er…yes." _Jerk! Foolish…boy…I'll kill you…yet…and…devour!_ Harry gulped. This monster sure got around.

"Well, I propose a safari! A merry monster-hunting day throughout the castle. Lemon drops for all! Neshka! And to lead us on our hunt, I've brought Rabid back from wizard prison!" Nancy indicated to the large lump lying under a blanket. Harry could distinctly hear, "Great man, Nancy!"

And so the school was scheduled to go on a merry monster-hunting day throughout the castle. Harry sat in the dormitory nervously, knowing that if he didn't find out where the damn monster was, no one would believe it existed and he'd be expelled for sure. Sighing, he stroked his unmoving owl, Betsy, some more, when suddenly he hear a big "SQUISH". "Blobby!" Harry cried.

"Yes, s' me. Listen, Harry…you just don't listen do you? You had to come meddle and piss the Master off…"

"You mean—YOU'RE WORKING FOR THE MONSTER? You really HAVE been trying to kill me!" Harry cried.

"No shit, kid. Master didn't want you to come to Hogwarts seein' as he'd heards of your complete lack of common sense, and knew that you'd ruin everything. But you didn't listen to—"

Harry clutched his head. "What do you mean ruin everything? What are you talking about!"

"Crap, I've said too much! Next thing you know, I'll be telling you that the way in to the Coliseum of Secrets is through the laundry room—oops…"

Harry gaped at him. "You're telling me the secret entrance to an ancient coliseum under the school is through a laundry room!"

The mucousy house-elf giggled nervously. "Uhhh…no? Ha-ha-ha." But by then Harry had sprinted out the door.

He came back in and said, "Forgot Betsy" sheepishly before attaching her to his shoulder in a rakish, jaunty, pirate manner. He sprinted back as Blobby scratched his head in confusion and shrugged before disappearing.

Harry ran into Neville in the hallways. "Neville," he panted, "Which way's the laundry room?"

Ten seconds and an explosion later, a disgruntled and sooty Harry continued down the hallway, wondering why today of all days Neville's self-destruct activation code was "laundry".

"A-ha!" Harry cried. "The laundry room!" And yes, so it was. But what now, Harry wonder. What now indeed.

He spotted a very dirty pile of laundry against the wall. But wait…why was it dirty when it wasn't laundry day yet? And why wasn't it in a basket? _Suspicious, _Harry thought. _Very suspicious…_He was in the process of clearing the clothes away from the wall when suddenly Ron burst in.

"Harry! Something important's come up!"

"What is it Ron?" Harry yelled.

"Yellow…" pant "…is the new pink!" Ron gasped out.

And that's when Girlyboy joined the party. "Oh, is not!" he cried. "Everyone knows that _pink _is the new pink!"

Harry sighed and continued looking for the entrance while the two of them fought over fashion. Yes, there it was…a hole in the wall! A laundry chute! 'The Laundry Chute of Hell', read the sign up above the hole. Harry shrugged and slipped inside, with Ron and Girlyboy following.

Falling though possibly the longest laundry chute in the history of mankind, Harry decided to scream, but when that got a bit boring, he began to sing. "HAKUNA MATATAAAAAAAAA! FOR THE REST OF YOUR DAAAAAAAAAAYS! IT'S A PROBLE—OWW!"

For he'd landed, alas, inside a dark, musty room. Ron landed on his shoulders, and then Girlyboy landed on Ron's shoulders, so when Harry got up and began walking thinking he must have looked very intimidating indeed. "For Scotland!" he cried and charged…

…and banged into a wall. "Ouch," Harry complained, but suddenly the room lit up, due to a lightbulb cord in the middle of the room. A cord that had been pulled on by a tall figure.

"Oh please, it's _obvious_ that it's Tom Riddle," Girlyboy rolled his eyes. He quickly—I mean, tragically—lost his memory and was knocked unconscious.

"Yes, it is I, LOL—er, sorry, force of habit," Riddle said quickly.

Ron gasped. "You're Tom Riddle? The most notorious child abductor in all of freakin' Scotland!"

Riddle sneered. "Yes. The internet is a…handy thing…and who might you be?"

"I'm Harry Potter, but some people like to call me the Heir of Slytherin."

Riddle jumped. "You can't be the Heir of Slytherin!"

"Why not?"

"Because _I'm _the Heir of Slytherin!"

"Oh…so what exactly does the Heir of Slytherin do?"

Riddle shrugged. "I dunno…I just help my great-great-great-great-great-grandaddy with his coliseum business."

Harry scratched his head and readers everywhere joined him. "What the fuck's going on?" he asked.

"You see, Harry," Riddle began, taking out a piece of parchment where he'd written down his bad guy confrontation speech, "I knew that if we ever wanted to get anyone to participate in our family-fun coliseum (kids get in for free on Tuesdays!) we would need contestants."

Harry took the moment to survey the room he was in. It was small and had a hella lotta pipe entrances. So this was how the monster had been getting around school. "I don't understand," he said slowly.

Riddle rolled his eyes. "That's because you're an incompetent fool."

Harry's eyes blazed and he punched the wall. "No one calls me a fool, fool! Now where's the monster at!"

"Monster?"

"You know, the giant snake thing Blobby was muttering about over the summer."

"Blobby! That moron! Listen to me, there IS no snake—"

"No. I wanna do something heroic and I wanna do it NOW!"

"Hold on," Riddle said. "I've got an extremely long list of plot holes to fill." Before he could resume to his parchment, Harry cried, "You villain! No one wants to hear that! They want to see boys fighting snakes!"

Riddle rolled his eyes. "There's no giant snake! How many times must I tell you! _He's _the Monster of Slytherin! He _is_ Slytherin!" The long-dead boy pointed to a tall, thin man climbing out of one of the pipes. The man grimaced as he wiped his robes of something slimy.

"Hello, Tom. Hey, we have company! Wait a second—it's you!" the man cried. Harry gaped. "You're the voice in the walls," Harry said. "The one who wants to devour me!"

"And you're that IDIOTIC boy who keeps framing me! All I want is a peaceful existence, and you've gone and made me out to be a killer!" Salazar (at least Harry was pretty sure it was Salazar) shrilled. "I've been living here for a thousand years, feeding on the losers in the coliseum. I'm not about to let some little boy spoil that!"

"You eat CHILDREN!" Harry cried. Here was a man to rival Rabid.

"It's not my fault! When the rest of the founders kicked me out because I couldn't pay rent, I had to start living under the school. Do you know how boring that gets!"

"So boring you had to build a gigantic coliseum to entertain yourself?" Ron guessed.

"Exactly! The Coliseum is my pride and joy! And also my food supply! Not counting the dog food…" Slytherin gestured to the cans littering the floor under the weak light of the bulb. "But ever since those DAMNED molemen have been stealing my supply of dog food, I've had to find more and more people to devour, conveniently contradicting the entire storyline and making me the bad guy!"

"The storyline contradicts the storyline," Ron explained ruefully. And was also knocked out. Oh the joy of writing…

"But…I thought it HAD to be a snake, since that would go conveniently with the fact that I can speak Parseltongue!" Harry pouted.

Slytherin sniffed. "I'll have you know I rather enjoy speaking Parseltongue," he said, and nervously glanced around to see if anyone would step up to point out this ludicrous and plotholey coincidence. Fortunately, no one did.

"Errr…is this the part where we fight?" Harry asked. Slytherin laughed. "No, not _we_. My good assistant Riddle will show you the way to the Coliseum, if you could follow me please…"

And so Harry did, just for the hell of it. The coliseum was huge and full of sand. It also, Harry saw as he was roughly shoved in, contained a redheaded figure. "Ginny? What are you doing here?"

For once she didn't explode. "Well, Tom invited me to meet him here. He's soooo sweet and he loves me and we're gonna get married in Rio!" she gushed. Harry would have rolled his eyes if Slytherin hadn't chosen that moment to release the lions. "Oh, shit…" The lions roared and ran at him.

"No! Wait! Please, don't eat me!" Harry grabbed some sand off the ground and threw it at the nearest lion's eyes. It shrieked and fell to the ground dead. Huh, whaddya know. How the hell did that happen? Harry wondered.

"Harry, help!" Ginny screamed as she disappeared down the second lion's mouth.

"Aw man…" then Harry got an idea. "Hey, Ginny, it's me, Harry. I have luscious green eyes and a pear shaped scar!" The lion exploded, and headless Ginny ran around the Coliseum waving her arms around like a nutter.

"RELEASE THE DRAGONS!" Slytherin called to Riddle from somewhere above.

Harry gulped…this was it. Lions he could handle, especially lions as pussy as that. But dragons? A heavy door opened on the other side of the Coliseum, and noises could be heard in the darkness…

-----------------------------------

Harry: What is it with you and all these dramatic endings? This is a parody, you know.

Well, I just thought…you know, if I have cliffhangers, maybe more people would want me to update?

Harry: So? What's in it for you?

I just want my people to

**REVIEWWWWWWWW**! (or I'll set the pure rose's woogalies on you! Rahhhh!)

Oh and I might be leaving on vacation soon, so possibly no updates for a while. As of now, all my completely written chapters are posted, so even if I don't leave, it'll be a while. Time enough for you to

**REVIEWWWWWWWWWW (**got it in twice in one chapter!)


	11. Chapter Eleven: InWhichTheTitleIsTooLong

Thanks to: **the pure rose** (your story idea sounds great!), **me gusta books**, **ultra violet catastrophy **( hope you feel happier), **I'm Your 108th Reviewer **(Yeah, it's hard to make a plotline for this without having a dozen (hundred) plotholes. I replaced the follow-the-spiders part with a follow-the-yellow-brick road-part. Just makes this monstrosity more monstrous than ever : As for writing the third parody…well…maybe…) **Black Triforce **(Yes, Betsy is indeed dead. Harry just hasn't noticed yet…if he ever does), **abbsy**, **Jenny **(FINALLY! Gosh, you're sposed to be my FRIEND), **TheAnonymousOneWhoReviewsOften** (like I said, I'm considering writing a parody for the third book…I dunno though…I might be losing my mojo), **Sabine Strohem-Moss**, **Gemma**, **Mz hellfire **(I was wondering where you'd got to! Glad you're back), **Nutz Nina** (thanks I am indeed random, and I'm not real sure how many times you've reviewed this but thanks all the same!), and **Kalira** (Haha I know it's confusing…I don't really get it either, and I wrote it! Isn't that just sad? But yeah basically Slytherin's the "monster" and he just built that big ole coliseum cuz he got bored. And I haven't been updating, I just got back from vacation as I write this. Sorry!).

Thanks to my SS reviewers: **cheesy toasty **(shotgun means like you get to sit up front next to the driver…I think. See I'm not really American, we just moved here ten years ago and I am quite slow. Oh and I usually don't email people back, I just respond here) and **Dazee Sagittarius**.

Disclaimer: I don't own, you don't sue, we go home happy. Well you probably are home when you read this...nevermind. Now enjoy...

Chapter Eleven: In Which There Is Much Lusciousness and Advancing, and the Title of Which is So Long It Surely Will Not Fit Into the Space In the Chapter Select

_Previously, on the Young and the Sorcerous…_

"_RELEASE THE DRAGONS!" Slytherin called to Riddle from somewhere above._

_Harry gulped…this was it. Lions he could handle, especially lions as pussy as that. But dragons? A heavy door opened on the other side of the Coliseum, and noises could be heard in the darkness…_

Noises that sounded an awful lot like…squeaking. High-pitched squeaking and snuffling.

"Riddle, you idiot of a great-great-great-etc-grandson! I said the dragons, not the chipmunks!" And indeed, there came from the gate a wild, frenzied herd of…chipmunks. Harry shrugged. "Could be worse," he said. But that was before a chipmunk bit him on the ankle. Harry roared. "OKAY, NOW I'M MAD!"

He pulled out his wand. "Thank God I have this," he said smugly, and immediately began skewering critters. After twenty minutes or so, Riddle turned frantically to Slytherin. "Great-Et-Cetera-Grandpa, he's killed all the chipmunks!" Riddle cried desperately, gesturing at Harry, who was now cooking the dead chipmunks (who were shish kabob'd on his wand) over a fire.

"Well, of course he has, you bloody IDIOT! Where the hell did you put the dragons!" Slytherin roared.

"Uhhhh…I'm not quite sure…" Riddle replied nervously.

"HOW THE HELL CAN YOU MISPLACE **DRAGONS**? If I'd known my heir would turn out to be a moron like you, I'd never have had children!" the ancient evil incarnate shrilled. Meanwhile, in a galaxy far, far away…

"Hurry the hell up and shoot the dragons, Legolas! Don't take your damn time about it!"

"But Gimli, I was just in the middle of my song!"

"We're all gonna die, dammit!"

"Gimliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii….."

"Fine, finish the damn song!"

"…_little brown jug, how I love_—OW!"

"I TOLD you to shoot the dragons first, you damn elf!"

Back to our heroes struggling in the clutches of the evil Lord Slytherin…

"There's only one of me, you know," Harry commented.

You forgot Ginny.

"She's headless. She doesn't count."

Fine! Back to our HERO struggling in the clutches of the evil Lord Slytherin…

"Alright, boy!" Slytherin cried. "I'll finish you off myself, since my idiot heir is a useless sack of crap!" He picked up a giant, broken rusted pipe. Harry gulped. But he needn't have worried, because the next moment he heard a fluttering of wings. "Perhaps it is an unmentioned bird here to save my ass!" Harry cried gladly, awaiting its entrance.

Several minutes later, the bird approached. It was small and yellow. Harry stared in surprise as Slytherin sneered. "Your savior, Dumbledore, has sent _Tweety Bird_ to help you?"

"His name is Nancy!" Harry roared furiously. "And he's the best Pokemon Master of all time, you big jerk!"

Slytherin blinked confusedly for a moment, then opened his mouth to speak—and was cut off by "I tink I saw a puddy tat! I did, I did, I did see a puddy—" SPLAT. Riddle held the dead canary in his clenched fist. Harry burned with shame at the lameness of his savior. Slytherin shrugged. "Well, turns out you're good for something, my boy." And that's when the chaos broke out.

Harry ran around screaming. Slytherin ran around screaming. Riddle picked lint off his sweater.

Why were they (with the exception of Riddle) running around screaming, you say? Well, I am quite sure you'd scream too, if a large troll had fallen out of nowhere wielding a sword. But unlike Harry, Slytherin, and the rest of us. Riddle is cool, suave, collected, nonchalant—that is, he was suffering a severe case of ADD. So he stood there, staring in fascination at the small grey fluffballs on his lovely shiny sweater.

But Riddle's battle with ADD and how some medicine really helped him out in the future to become a great dark lord by giving him concentration skills is another story. Well, it is actually very vital to this one, but let's go back to Harry now.

"Damn straight, woman!" Shut up, Harry.

Ahem…Slytherin's eyes bulged as he ran around screaming shrilly, a strange combination. "It's the Sorting Troll! Dumbledore's sent the Sorting Troll!"

Harry said indignantly, "He prefers Nancy!"

"Whatever." This remark seemed to anger the troll, as it bashed Slytherin on the head with his sword. "YEOWWWWW!" the ancient incarnate screamed. "I know that sword! I know that bash! That's GODRIC'S SWORD!" Harry was very confused, as the history of the founders was not explained in this story. Slytherin sighed and conjured up a flashback.

_A much younger Slytherin was standing at a bar in the 11th century when a man with a luscious mane of hair walked in with a girl on each arm and a sword hanging off his belt, which he picked up and bashed playfully over Slytherin's head. "Godric" Slytherin said nervously. "Salzy, baby, meet Helga and Rowena." Salazar looked around shiftily, and very suspiciously, I might add. "W-who are they?" he scoffed._

"_They're supermodels, baby, and they're gonna help us build a school, see." The man—Godric—winked in a luscious way, all the while throwing back his luscious hair. Slytherin glanced around nervously and subtly killed two Muggleborns in the bar. "Sounds like a good idea," the dark lord said. He shifted his eyes then softly chuckled. "Mwahahahahahahahahaha!"_

"_Salzy, baby, what are you doing? Could you be laughing evilly in a manner that suggests you are planning to become an evil dark lord and turn against our not-yet-existent school?"_

_Slytherin tugged his collar. "Erm…" But just then Godric's luscious cell phone went off and he said "Scuse me, cats and kittens," as he left the bar. Salazar heaved a sigh of relief, while Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff simply stood there blankfaced and useless, much like their houses. _

Harry gasped as they left the flashback sequence. "You turned against that luscious, luscious Godric! How!"

"He always got the chicks!" Salazar snarled. "And he would always smack me around with that bloody sword of his!" But then the troll roared, and all that was forgotten. Mostly because the troll cleaved Salazar's head off in the next instant.

Harry blanched. "I say, that really was a bit harsh." The troll roared again. Harry said quickly, "B-b-but I'm not complaining!"

"Great-Etc-Grampy!" Riddle cried out tearfully. "Nooooooooo!" He whirled around. "Now you'll pay, Potter!" Harry gulped. "B-b-but I didn't do anything!" he pleaded. But Riddle kept advancing, brandishing his wand. Harry whipped his head around wildly, looking around for some sort of help. Then he saw Ginny, who was still running around, holding, he noticed, that magic laptop. No help there, though. She was as headless as ever. The troll! No…it seemed to have stabbed itself and was lying on the ground bleeding to death. Not that it noticed. Harry gulped again, backing away as Riddle advanced on him.

"Listen…couldn't we just settle this with a game of poker, perhaps?" Harry uttered hopefully. Riddle was about to reply with an angry NO! when a thoughtful look flashed over his features. "Welllll…" he considered.

But Harry wasn't going to settle for an unheroic defeat. "No wait, I changed my mind. I will go down fighting heroically, and everyone will remember the name of Harry Potter, greatest wizard ever, Heir of Slytherin—"

Riddle's face colored. "How many times must I tell you! _I'm _the heir, not you, you bloody sack of crap!" And the game of advancing and backing away began again.

_I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die…unpublicized! _Harry wailed internally. And then—CRASH!

"Stupid girl!" Riddle snarled at Ginny, who'd banged into him, the laptop flying out of her hands and landing somewhere in front of Harry, and was now lying at his feet. "You dare to bump ME, the great Voldemort!"

Harry blinked like an owl. "….Whaaaaa…?"

Riddle/Voldemort sneered in a very sneery fashion. "Oh yes, Potter, did I mention that I am the memory of Lord Voldemort preserved by an online diary?"

Harry gaped. "Man, that makes nooooooooo sense…"

Riddle/Voldemort shrugged. "Yes, well, having a middle name like Marvolo really helps with anagrams."

"But—computers weren't even in EXISTENCE when Voldemort was young!" came Hermione's voice from somewhere. "Hermione, you're Petrified, remember? You're not around to point out the author's mistakes!" Harry yelled out as the author chuckled madly.

Riddle/Voldemort looked around in confusion at the mention of an author, then shrugged. He began advancing again. Yes that's right, again with the advancing. Why all this advancing, the reader might ask? Well, you see, advancing plays a rather important part in this boring, dragged out climax because as Riddle/Voldemort advanced, he just so happened to advance onto a rectangular machine made of chips and covered in plastic. Yes, that's right, Riddle had just advanced right onto his laptop.

CRUNCH.

"Shit—"

Whoooooooooooooooosh.

And with those sound effects, Riddle began blurring out of existence. "POTTER! YOU FOOL! I'LL GET YOU, AND YOUR LITTLE GINNY, TOO! BWAHAHAHAHA—"

And he was gone. "There's even less left of him than last year," Harry remarked to Ginny, who had finally regrown her head, referring to last year's incident when Voldemort happened to leave his face behind, which had been sold on eBay for a rather good deal.

Ginny blushed furiously and her head exploded once again. Harry sighed. "So…what now?"

-------------------------------------

Errr….strange chapter, I know. Was really at a loss on what to write. It should be over either next chapter or the one after that. Not sure. But that's good because school starts next Monday, and whatever fresh horrors lie in store for your unfortunate author, writing fanfiction will simply not do for long.

What is this I hear about not being allowed to answer reviews anymore? I wish fanfiction would notify us about new rules. If anyone chooses to snitch on my story because I answer reviews,

you are an asswipe

please, asswipe, do TELL me that something is wrong first so I can fix it instead of going to the Gestapo or whoever enforces these wacko rules and getting my story deleted (cuz you know, if my story does get deleted over something dumb like that it will be back up again in a jiffy)

Well, there's the promised update (I've been on vacation for a while, remember?) Now comes your part of the bargain.

Meaning…

**REVIEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!**


	12. Chapter Twelve: Good Publicity

Yes, here it is, the final chapter of Coliseum of Secrets, a long time coming because of the start of school. I hope you like it!

Thanks to: **Sabine Strohem-Moss**, **Gemma** (Thanks! And I love that Making Friendship Bracelets for the Deatheaters story, it's so funny!) **Mz Hellfire**, **starcadet **(oooh, a new reviewer! Hope you'll keep it up), **TheAnonymousOneWhoReviewsOften** (yeah not being able to get answers and acknowledgement for your reviews takes all the fun out of reviewing—why else would we do it?) **Black Triforce **(last chappie, 'twas random indeed!) **me gusta books** (it's fine if you don't really say anything important in the review, mine are usually along the lines of "good, continue", haha) **Jenny aka Weirdlyyours **(thanks Jennya! And no, Harry didn't have to fight the Sorting Troll in the first parody because Rabid ate him—the troll, not Harry. He was sorted by eenie meenie miney moe. They had to purchase a new troll next year.), **MudbloodsRule**, **kalira **(I didn't know you had an account here! Haha)** Evil Scientist** (to make you laugh out loud is my sole mission here : )

Thanks to **Jamie550 **for reviewing the Sorcerer's Stoned.

May I add this is the first chapter twelve I've ever written in my life! Sorcerer's Stoned was only eleven!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing, I says! And now, for the last time in a while, enjoy…

Chapter Twelve: Good Publicity

Harry sat in the dusty Coliseum of Secrets, with a headless Dark Lord laying dead at his feet, a headless Ginny playing thumb wars with herself somewhere close by, a dead Tweety bird and a dying Sorting Troll. "Soooo…" Harry looked around. "How the hell do I get out of here?" He waited around for an unknown crossover entity to save him, but no one came. "Yugi? Digidestined? Anyone?" Harry called out meekly.

And then quite suddenly a great flood of people poured into the arena of the coliseum. At the head of them was none other than Nancy, riding a giant flying turtle. He was holding a large net containing two figures, one short and stout and the other tall and thin.

"Hello, Harry!" Nancy cried jovially. "As you can see, we are all enjoying a school-wide monster hunt!" He swept his hand at the crowd behind him, including an extremely angry-looking Snape, who threw a knife at Harry's head. "Yes, we are all having a dandy time! Bibick!" Nancy said again as Harry pulled the knife out of his forehead gingerly.

"Er, but the Sorting Troll already killed the monster of Slytherin. So…who are your monsters?" Harry asked, jerking his thumb at the net.

" 'Oh, Gimli, let's go through that portal to a different world, it is ever so shiny', you said! Damn elf!" a rough voice cried from the sack.

"All you do is criticize me! I can't be bloody perfect!" came the sobbing reply.

"Oh, don't go blubbering now, dunderhead! Can't you see we're in a potentially dangerous crossover written by a confirmed-to-be-dangerous author!" The only reply was sniffling.

"Let us all go back up to the school for tea and crumpets!" Nancy suggested.

McGonagall gasped in amazement. "Dumble—Nancy, you're mad! This is no time for tea! It's half past teatime, you loon!" Dumb—Nancy stared at his turtle's shell in shame.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to get out of here," Harry suggested.

And so they did, leaving Slytherin, the coliseum, the laptop, and the dead troll behind, not bothering to clean it all up in case another crazed author tries to screw with Harry Potter, Book the Second.

A week later, order had been restored (to a degree), the Petrified students, much to Harry's chagrin, had been brought back to normal, and Harry was waiting to be glorified.

"Oh, wow," Hermione said as Harry, Ron, and she were sitting on dead elves in the common roomafter she'd been treated. Ron was doing his nails, standing on his hands, and playing the harmonica while playing Harry in chess—yes, he was THAT good—while Hermione was busy ingesting people through her hair.

"So, Slytherin was killed by the Sorting Troll?" she continued eagerly.

"Well, yes, but Riddle—" Harry hastily said.

"—Destroyed himself with no help from any outside forces!" Hermione finished happily for him.

"No, you're forgetting—"

"Oh, silly me—of course—" Hermione exclaimed, as Harry puffed with pride, ready to enjoy fame. "It wouldn't have happened without Ginny's help, crashing into him and all!"

"But—but—AAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!" And Harry took a leaf out of Ginny's book, and exploded.

And so, things continued splendidly, except for poor Harry who didn't get the glory he believed he deserved, until one Mr. Lucius Malfoy decided to pay the school a little visit.

On that day, Harry had been summoned to Nancy's office for the routine end-of-year pep talk. Nancy had donned a cheerleader outfit and shook his pompoms around as Harry entered. "Gimme a N!"

"N," Harry said.

"Gimme a Ancy!"

"Ancy."

"What does that speeeeeelllll?"

"Enancy!" Harry cried enthusiastically.

"Yes—wait, no—ahh, nevermind, Harry." Nancy adjusted his golden pilot goggles. "Now, as I am sure you know, you have broken many school rules and Petrified quite a few people. However…" Harry waited for recognition of his deeds… "…However, as our monster hunt went so splendidly well, I have decided to let you go with no consequences—except, of course, five hundred thousand points for Gryffindor!"

And Nancy turned his head in rapture to the wall behind him, which was now decorated with two mounted heads, the bearded dwarf's head glaring angrily at the blond girlish elf's head beside him. Harry swore he could hear him mutter, "Damn elf".

"Ahh, monster hunting…one of my favorite pastimes. Bippity boppity boo," said Nancy fondly, stroking a large axe with a twinkle in his eye. Harry nervously edged out of the office and into the Great Hall, where it was currently raining down katanas at the hapless students. And that's when it happened.

_It _being a pale man with long blond hair sleeked back wearing a bright purple pimp coat and carrying a shiny pimp cane. He burst into the hall to the serenade of funk music with a hint of disco, flipping back his long mane of hair and beating women off him with his cane.

"Hello, father," Draco Malfoy said a bit apprehensively.

"Don't gimme none of that sass boy," the man said. "Where my hoes at?" he asked. Draco nervously pointed to a sickly looking group of Slytherin girls huddled in a corner.

Harry took the time to observe this man as he demanded his money from his prostitutes. He didn't seem like a nice man at all, something that was heavily emphasized when he sashayed up to Harry, peering at him over his shiny sunglasses. "You be Harry Potter?" he asked.

"Er, yes, that's me!" Harry said, glad someone knew his name.

"Don't I know youse from somewhere?"

"Well, now that you mention it—"

"I can't believe anyone would ever attend a _Weasley _New Year's party," the man said disdainfully.

"AAAAAARRRGH! That wasn't me! And I'll have you know that I am the sole reason for the downfall of Mortevold—er, Voldemort!" Harry shrieked indignantly.

The man's eyes widened. "WHAAAAAAAAAAAT! I _know _you didn't! You do not be trippin', killin' my Dark Lord, bitch!" Harry gulped, but luckily Nancy came to his rescue.

"Ahh, Lucius Malfoy!" Nancy said. Still holding his large axe. "How do you do? Fiklip!" Now it was Lucius' turn to gulp. "I was just on mah way out, headmasta'." He sullenly collected the money from his Slytherin hoes, gave Draco—who looked rather embarrassed—a slap on the ass, and left. And that's when Harry noticed who was trailing behind him, leaving a nasty trail of goo. "Blobby!" Harry cried.

The house-elf whipped around. "Shit..." he muttered. Harry reassured him, "Don't worry, Blobby, as a turn of events I have decided I like you and I guess I owe you for, you know, helping me find the Coliseum of Secrets…"

"Really?" Blobby rasped hopefully, letting Harry come closer.

"No, bitch, die," Harry said, and quickly grabbed Rabid's pink machete, for Rabid, returned from wizard prison, had conveniently chosen that moment to walk through the entrance, and beheaded Blobby. Rabid picked him up and cried, "Rrrrr fried blob for shrrrreekkkk dinner tonight!". Nancy lovingly said, "Welcome back, Rabid" and lodged the axe in Rabid's shoulder.

"Great man, Nancy," Rabid said with tears in his eyes, from joy or pain, Harry did not know.

And so came the end of Harry's second year at Hogwarts. There were tears, laughter, axes, and much more. Once again Harry found himself, to his immense relief, on the train back home.

"Oh, Harry, will you be alright with the Dursleys?" Hermione gushed, giving Harry a goodbye hug at the station and subsequently tearing one of his ears off.

"Probably. For people who eat nothing but human brains they are sadly lacking between the ears," Harry answered. The trio said their goodbye and soon Harry was driven back to his house by his uncle-zombie, who managed to kill only a _few_ people on the road. There were cops parked all over the front lawn of Number Four, Privet Drive.

"_Come out with your hands up!_" blared a voice through a megaphone.

Harry grinned. Any publicity was good publicity, right?

**FIN.**

----------------------------------------------

Well, I hope I managed to give you all a few good laughs. I'm proud I finished because now that school has begun and I have a load of hard classes, I won't have time to write. So I managed it just in time. What did you think? Good? Bad? Funny? Completely tacky and a waste of your time? If I do write the next parody, I'd probly have to wait till next summer to begin—hehe, I think that's what I said about writing this one and look how that went! I hope you guys had a good time reading this, thanks to everyone for reviewing. Now just do it for one last chapter and it'll make my day.

I can't believe I finished.

Much love,

**F.F.F.**


End file.
